had
suggested.
She’d have a baby on her own.
There was just one little problem-she needed sperm to get pregnant.
A headache pinched at her as she struggled over what to do. She could
visit a sperm clinic and have in vitro fertilization.
Too impersonal. She’d never be able to go through with it. And she
couldn’t possibly tell her baby that she’d bought the sperm from a
stranger, that she knew nothing of his father but what she’d learned
from a computer file.
What about asking someone she knew to be a donor?
Jerry’s enthusiastic face sprang to mind, but a shudder gripped her.
The dark-haired baby from her dreams haunted her mind.
Grammy had said to follow her dreams. Maybe the dream had been an omen.
And in her dream the baby had been Thomas’s baby.
Maybe the dream meant that she was supposed to have Thomas’s baby!
He was smart, intelligent, good-looking. If he donated sperm to father
her child, she would know that the baby would be healthy, and she could
assure her child that he or she had a great father. But how would she
approach Thomas?
Should she, try to seduce him?
Nervous laughter tickled her insides. She could barely talk to Thomas
without making a fool of herself.
And asking him to sleep with her would be wa-a-ay too personal.
Although the mere thought sent a million delicious sensations curling in
her belly.
Maybe…no, she couldn’t.
But she could ask him to make a little personal donation. After all, he
was an OB-GYN. He probably dealt with single women wanting babies all
the time. He’d even commented that he admired single mothers. And the
fact that he was an OB-GYN might prove to be a blessing. He probably
already knew doctors who could perform the procedure, and she wouldn’t
have to seek help from virtual strangers.
She’d keep the arrangement simple, too. Once she was pregnant, he
wouldn’t be obligated or need to have any personal contact with her at all.
She twisted the sheets in her hands, her stomach convulsing in a
thousand knots. Now she just had to summon up enough courage to discuss
the baby plan with him. And she would, she promised herself, right after
she phoned her insurance company to take care of paying for the damages
to his wrecked car.
A wistful sigh escaped her, a twinge of sadness following. She wasn’t
settling for less than her dream, she assured herself as she climbed
from bed and headed to the shower. She was simply facing reality. If she
couldn’t have Thomas, she could at least have his child. That would be
enough.
A moment of trepidation hit her as she turned on the spray of water.
What would Thomas think of the idea?
In the early-morning sunlight the idea of asking Thomas Emerson to
father her baby didn’t seem quite so wonderful. In fact, the more
Rebecca thought about asking him to help her with the baby plan, the
more nauseous she became. By the time she’d walked the two blocks to the
bookstore, her legs felt like rubber bands, and she suspected that if
she actually ran into Thomas or even saw him on the street, she’d lose
the muffin she’d finally managed to down for breakfast.
Why couldn’t she be more like Suzanne?
Disgusted with herself, Rebecca rushed toward the Book Nook to open up.
Maybe she’d talk to Mimi today and ask for some advice. Or she could
browse the shelves for some good self-help books. Something on
bolstering courage and acting with confidence. Or one on not acting like
an idiot in front of men.
Could there possibly be a miracle book on talking without tripping over
your tongue? Or flirting for the fainthearted?
Just as she reached the awning, she spotted Thomas driving by in a
lemon-yellow Mustang convertible, obviously one of her uncle Wiley’s
loaners. A cold
breeze suddenly stirred, sending leaves fluttering and her loose black
skirt flying up around her legs. She tried to grab the billowing fabric,
but it swirled up around her